


Dinners and Debts

by biggestbaddestwolf



Category: DCU - Comicverse, Vertigo (Comics)
Genre: M/M, Pre-New 52, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-12
Updated: 2013-03-12
Packaged: 2017-12-05 02:42:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/717940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biggestbaddestwolf/pseuds/biggestbaddestwolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John shows up in Gotham and asks Bruce to pay a debt in a very odd way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dinners and Debts

“You’re calling in a favor with dinner?”

 

Bruce might have pretended as if that was all this was, but John knew that the man knew better than that. Even if half of John’s contacts in the world weren’t ones that Bruce could snoop on- the advantages of divination and whispering exchanges with minor demons- Gotham was still Bruce’s city. Would always be, and so John knew that the second that he’d touched down at the airport, Bruce had known that he was there. And, shortly afterwards, had probably known why.

The dinner, in the lavish penthouse restaurant overlooking the rest of the city, with a view that stretched far back enough on a clear night that John could see across the river, was a bonus. It wasn’t the debt.

John leaned in, his elbows resting on the table as he lifted the champagne glass to his lips. He would have preferred something stronger, but he’d let Bruce order. He imagined the champagne cost quite a bit more than his yearly pub tab. “Like the gossip mongering that’ll happen in tomorrow’s page six isn’t a fair trade for what you needed me for in Moscow?”

Bruce managed to keep his face relaxed and friendly, but his eyes shot a sharp icy blue warning John’s way. “Seems a little too…easy.”

“Does it now?” John chuckled. He downed the rest of the champagne in his glass. “You’re not trying to call me easy now, are you?” He held out his glass so that Bruce could refill it. It took Bruce a beat, but he did it, still throwing John that glare that should have been enough to shrivel up a man’s bits, and yet only made John smirk. “I’ll start playing hard to get if I have to.”

“So what brings you to Gotham, Constantine?” Bruce had asked this same question at least three times since John had approached him, and each time John gave him the runaround. What Bruce needed to know, he’d find out with a little leg work. “Work or vacation?”

John rolled his eyes. “As nice as your little city is, love, I’m not exactly in the bracket that vacations here.” He settled back into his seat as he eyed a lovely young reporter- he’d seen her once or twice while watching the telly in his hotel room- one the phone with, he presumed, her editor. Good. All he needed was one. “I just wanted to give an old mate an unforgettable evening.”

Bruce raised his eyebrow. “And how were you planning on doing that?”

“Don’t tell me you’re getting senile on me, Bruce.” John’s eyes sparkled devilishly. “I was thinking about the part in Moscow that you  _don’t_ owe me for.”

 

Under Bruce’s expensive suit and silk shirt, John finds a hundred scars, small and large. He remembers some of them from last time. He remembers laying on the bed, tongue trailing up and down Bruce’s cock, and the way Bruce’s chest felt against the palm of his hand. How the scars along Bruce’s thighs felt as John gripped them.

There are hundreds of little scars across Bruce’s body, and it had taken a long, long time to get Bruce to show John any of them. They were like runes carved along every inch of him, all power and strength. John had wondered too many times how he could pull power from it, use it as a shield or fuel…not that he had a use for it, but it was a constant temptation.

There was a lot about Bruce that was a constant temptation. The way that those shoulder blades moved so fluidly, the weight of Bruce pressing behind him, the agonizingly delicious feel of Bruce using his body for something other than saving the innocent…

John pushed back up against Bruce, his whole body shuddering with every one of Bruce’s movements. Sex with Bruce wasn’t quite a fight, but it  _was_ rough, and it was the closest that Bruce got to careless, thoughtless. Still, even shagging in Bruce’s king sized bed was a serious endeavor, still deathly serious to the point of infuriating John, making him push back harder, hoping Bruce realized-

Bruce finished first, and then reached his hand around to finish John off. John already had a stream of curses at the tip of his tongue before Bruce started to jerk him off, and as his brain half-short-circuited they poured out freely, his accent curling his words to near incomprehensibility- not that they would have made much sense otherwise. John arched back as he came, shuddering back against for a second before they both rolled off to opposite sides of the bed.

John counted an hour before Bruce climbed out of bed. John pretended to be half asleep, sprawling out a little further as soon as there was more space to be had. He listened to Bruce’s slippered feet pad across the bedroom to the door. He was more than aware of where Bruce was going.

Which was fine, he thought as he got up minutes later, because he was sure that Bruce knew where he was going too.

 

“You used me as an alibi.”

John had a feeling that, regardless of what roof he’d sat on, the Bat would find him. He’d made himself comfortable on a building that overlooked a small park, having a smoke somewhere a cop wouldn’t complain to him about endanger men, women, and babies with his nicotine. He’d been right, of course, because less than a half an hour after sitting himself down, that familiar husky voice came up from behind him.

“Used you for a bit more than that, mate,” John snorted, not bothering to turn around.

Batman’s voice held even more threat than it normally did, and John felt the shadow grow closer. “If you-“

“I didn’t do anything you’ll have to hunt me down for, so stop right there.” John stood up, flicking ash off his cigarette tip. “I had a problem with mobster, and I needed him to give me back something that belonged to me.”

“So why the act?”

“Act? There wasn’t an bloody act,” John rolled his eyes. “He’s paranoid, a bit like somebody else I know. When I come to Gotham, he notices, yeah?” John gestured with his hands as he spoke. “So I needed to grab my property on a night everyone would know I was occupied.” Then John turned, glancing up slightly as the Bat loomed over him. John decided then and there that he preferred the man in  _a_  suit instead of _the_  suit. “And you kept me occupied.” Batman stepped a little closer in, and John took a step back, holding his hands up like a white flag. “Look, this way we’re all even, yeah? You don’t owe me for the little situation back in Moscow, or the little trouble we had back in Vegas with Zatanna. We’re square, and you got your rocks off. Pretty sweet deal, I’d say.”

Batman stared back at John. John braced himself.

Whatever happened next, John knew, he’d probably deserve.


End file.
